Snippets
by CatherineA
Summary: One-shots based on the snippets that Cassandra Clare has released for City of Heavenly Fire. (Because the wait is driving us crazy!) Rating for safety.
1. Tessa Gray

**So instead of just thinking about all of these snippets Cassandra Clare has released, I decided to write some of them! I won't be writing all of them, however, probably only about 10-15. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Reviews are lovely!**

**Disclaimer: Anything recognizable belongs to Cassandra Clare.**

* * *

_"Clary," Jocelyn said. "I want you to meet Tessa Gray."_

* * *

Clary stretched as she walked through the doorway into the kitchen. She was so tired. Then again, she didn't exactly get the best sleep these days. Coffee sounded good. And doughnuts. Maybe she could get Luke to grab her some from the shop a few minutes aw-

Clary stopped short of the kitchen in surprise. Because who wouldn't stop and stare upon finding a stranger in their kitchen. Admittedly, this stranger couldn't exactly be a threat, as Jocelyn and Luke calmly stood across the island from her, but still.

"What the – Mom, what's going on?" asked Clary, looking from the stranger to her mom and Luke and back again. The stranger, a girl, had long brown hair that hung in waves down her back. She couldn't have been much older than twenty, and when she looked at Clary, Clary was struck by the piercing grey of her eyes.

"Clary," Jocelyn said. "I want you to meet Tessa Gray."

The girl, Tessa, smiled for the first time since Clary had entered the room.

"Okayyy," said Clary, cautiously moving forward.

Jocelyn hesitated, looking back at Tessa. Tessa moved around the side of the island towards Clary.

"You could say that I am a… family friend," said Tessa, holding out a hand to Clary. Clary took it, and they shook as if in agreement about something, though Clary wasn't sure what.

"Wait," said Clary. "I've seen you before. You were there, at the celebration, that night. You were talking to Magnus."

"Yes, I was."

"And you looked familiar then, too. Why?"

"Why was I there? Magnus is an old friend, and I wished to make sure that he was alright."

"Why did you look so familiar to me?" said Clary, nearly in a whisper. Behind Tessa, Clary saw Luke and her mother exchange a look. Tessa turned, following Clary's eyes. Clary knew the look the three were giving each other. It was the look adults gave each other when they were debating how much to tell a child. _Well,_ Clary thought, _I'm not a child_.

"What?" she demanded.

Luke sighed. "Maybe we should all sit down."

Jocelyn led the way into the living room. On the way, the group passed tons of boxes of unshelved books. Clary couldn't help it – she wondered if they'd ever be shelved. She wondered if her life would ever go back to anything resembling normal. And it made her sad, because she knew her life never _would_ be like that life again.

Clary watched Tessa follow Luke and Jocelyn. The girl walked with an air of superiority, of propriety. Clary wondered where she was from, who she really was.

They ended up with Luke and Jocelyn seated on the worn couch, Tessa perched on the ottoman, and Clary in Luke's favorite reading chair.

"Clary, remember how I mentioned once that a female warlock took the place of the Iron Sister for the protection spells put on you?" asked Jocelyn.

Clary nodded absently. It was too early for this.

"Well," Tessa said, "That's me."

Clary's head snapped around to look at Tessa. "Wait, what?"

"I'm the warlock that helped with your rituals."

"But you can't be a warlock," Clary said, "You don't have any mark."

Tessa smiled wryly. "Well, that is a long story and hardly relevant to why I'm here."

"No offense, but why _are_ you here?" asked Clary.

"Magnus," Tessa said simply. She frowned, as if trying to figure out how to explain something.

"Seeing as Magnus isn't exactly on speaking terms with any of us," said Luke, "it seems he's sent a messenger."

"And I wasn't unwilling," said Tessa. "I have a special interest in the Herondale line anyway…"

_Why would Tessa care about Jace enough to help me?_ wondered Clary. She was almost certain they hadn't even met. At least now she knew why Tessa looked so familiar: some part of the back of her mind must have memories of her from that time so long ago.

"What she was telling us when you walked in," said Jocelyn, "is that Magnus has…concerns about the strength of those spells."

Clary looked between the three of them. "You mean that they could wear off?"

Luke nodded. "Causing you to be vulnerable to demonic influence-"

"And Sebastian," Clary finished. "So what do we do?"

"Well," said Tessa, "Really, the only option is to cast the protection spells again."

"Would you be taking the place of the Iron Sister again?" asked Jocelyn.

Tessa shook her head. "I don't believe that the protection spells wouldn't work if I cast them, it's just that I feel that they would be stronger if cast by an Iron Sister. However, I believe Magnus could get in touch with the same Silent Brother as last time."

"So," said Clary, "are we thinking that my protection spells could just wear off any time?"

"Possibly," said Tessa. "Or, if this Sebastian hears of how weak we suspect they are, then he may try to remove the spells."

Clary looked at her mom and Luke. "You think I should do this? Have the spells recast?"

Jocelyn nodded, and Luke spoke. "Yes. It couldn't hurt, but it _could_ save your life."

* * *

Clary lay on her back on the bed, watching Jace pace around his room in the Institute.

"When are they going to perform the ceremony? What if Sebastian finds out before-"

"Stop, please," Clary said, cutting him off. "Tomorrow morning. And I think Sebastian would need a little more time than that to destroy the _magic on my mind_."

Jace nodded, finally flopping down on his back beside Clary. They stared at the ceiling in silence. Suddenly, Clary remembered something.

"Jace?" she asked, turning her head to look at him.

"Yeah?" he replied, concern lacing his voice.

"Jace… the ceremony. Is it scary? Does it hurt?" Clary had remembered that as soon as Jace was healthy enough, they'd had to redo _his_ protection spells. It hadn't been exactly a piece of cake, either, considering the heavenly fire still possessing Jace.

Jace smiled, and Clary was suddenly struck by how childish her question had been.

"Sorry-" she began, but Jace cut her off.

"Clary, it's a ceremony designed for babies. It's not bad, I promise."

Clary nodded, pushing herself into a sitting position. She hesitated. "Have you ever met a girl named Tessa Gray?"

Jace frowned, looking up at her. "No, why?"

"Oh, it's nothing. She seemed to know you though."

"That's weird."

Clary nodded.

"You know what else is weird?"

"What?" asked Clary, rolling her eyes.

"Gray rhymes with Fray. Didn't you say your mom called her a family friend? Do you think your mom got your name from hers?"

"I think you're reading too far into things, Jace.

Jace just grinned.


	2. (Not) Goodbye

**Hello, everyone! Thank you for the reviews, follows, and favorites for the first chapter! So I'm back with chapter two. (aka Sizzy!) It's a little shorter than the last, but I hope you still like it. :) Also, bonus if you catch the hint to one of the spoilery arts that Cassandra Clare posted. **

**Disclaimer: Cassandra Clare's, not mine.**

* * *

_"Simon," said a voice at his shoulder, and he turned to see Izzy, her face a pale smudge between dark hair and dark cloak, looking at him, her expression half-angry, half-sad. "I guess this is the part where we say goodbye?"_

* * *

Simon sat on the steps of the Institute, his legs crossed out in front of him, watching the Shadowhunters. It wasn't the first time he had felt jealous of them. The only difference was that last time (and the times before that), he had been a mundane.

He watched Clary delicately helping Jace with his runes. He watched Jocelyn and Luke murmuring to each other, their foreheads pressed together. He watched Alec standing with his parents off to the side, the three speaking quietly to one another. He saw that even Jordan and Maia, though werewolves, had elected to fight with the Shadowhunters in this battle.

Because that's what this was. They were preparing for battle. A battle Simon wouldn't be fighting in. Clary had tried to reassure him, to tell him that they needed him here, to guard the Institute with some of the other Shadowhunters and helpful Downworlders. Simon knew this was true, but a part of him couldn't help but wonder if he was just an obstacle for them. Some more dead weight.

"Simon," said a voice at his shoulder, and he turned to see Izzy, her face a pale smudge between dark hair and dark cloak, looking at him, her expression half-angry, half-sad. "I guess this is the part where we say goodbye?"

"Yeah," Simon said. He could still hear her shouting from two nights before in his head. "I guess so."

"You know, as Shadowhunters, they teach us never to say goodbye," she said, almost thoughtfully.

"Oh yeah?" Simon asked. He instantly felt bad for the sarcasm in his voice, and felt even worse when Isabelle's face hardened and she looked away. But then, abruptly, she sat down onto the steps next to him.

"Yeah. We're supposed to act confident, like return is certain - it's not. 'Mizpah,' we say. It's from the Bible: 'And Mizpah, for he said, the Lord watch between me and thee when we are absent one from another.'"

Simon nodded absently, looking down at his hands. "So it's a goodbye without actually saying goodbye?"

Isabelle sighed. "I guess."

An awkward moment passed, and then –

"I'm so sorry."

"This is all my fault."

They laughed suddenly. They hadn't even been able to understand each other – they'd been trying too hard to talk over one another.

"You first," said Izzy, her smile disappearing all too quickly.

"I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have said what I did. These past forty-eight hours have been the worst of my life –"

"Including when you first turned?"

"Okay, the second worst forty-eight hours of my life. And I can't even imagine what it would be like to _actually_ never speak to you again. I'm so sorry, Isabelle."

Isabelle drew her knees to her chest and rested her elbows on them. Simon had never seen her look so _small_. She turned to look at Simon.

"You know what scares me the most, Simon?"

"No," said Simon quietly. "I didn't know anything could scare Isabelle Lightwood."

"Well," she said, "I'm scared, Simon. Because I _love_ you. And that, to me, is so _scary_-"

She cut herself off, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes. Her head dropped onto her knees, and she was almost completely hidden by her dark cloak. Simon didn't know what to do. He'd seen Izzy cry once, and that had been after the death of her brother.

Carefully, he reached for her. When she didn't pull away, he wrapped his arms around her and held her to him. She managed to calm herself after only a few moments of strangled sobs, though, and began to pull away.

Simon grabbed at Isabelle's hands, forcing her to look in his direction.

"I'm sorry," Isabelle said. "Look at me, making a complete fool of myself by sobbing like an idiot." She managed a smile, and pulled one hand out of Simon's to wipe her eyes.

Simon could only stare, however. She _loved him_. Isabelle Sophia Lightwood loved _him_. "No," he whispered. "Don't be sorry. I love you too, Isabelle. I mean it."

"Me too," she whispered with a watery smile.

"We are going to make this work," said Simon. "We will not end up like your parents."

Isabelle sighed, leaning back on her hands. "You're a vampire, and I'm a Shadowhunter. You make it all sound too simple, Simon."

"I know," Simon replied. "But it doesn't have to be simple. It just has to be possible, right?"

"Right," Isabelle whispered. She leaned forward again, brushing her lips to Simon's. Simon leaned into the kiss, brushing a strand of raven black hair behind Izzy's ear. He tried to put the thought of goodbye into the back of his mind. That was not what this kiss meant. They stayed like that, thinking only of each other, for a moment, until Isabelle pulled away.

"I have to go soon," said Isabelle, her gaze sweeping over the misfit group gathered on the Institute's lawn. Everyone seemed to be starting to assemble for the portal. "Idris awaits."

Simon stood and pulled Izzy to her feet - not that she needed it. They stood awkwardly looking at each other for a moment. Simon's eyes found the two tiny scars on her neck, and he reached out to touch them lightly.

"Alec, we have to go! Izzy, come on!" Jace called as he made his way to the center of the lawn. Simon jerked back quickly.

He watched Izzy stick her tongue out at Jace, and saw Alec come around from the side of the Institute. _Why had he been over there?_ Simon wondered, and then as Izzy turned back to him realized he didn't really care.

"Isabelle, promise me you'll be careful."

She smiled, a real smile this time. "I always am."

"Isabelle!" called a very annoyed Jace. "Come _on_!"

She smiled at Simon one last time and squeezed his hands, turning to go. Simon remembered something suddenly.

"Mizpah," he said, and she turned.

"Mizpah, Simon."


	3. Parabatai

**Hi again! Thank you for the new reviews/favorites/follows! Just so you know, I won't be able to update this as frequently during the week, due to school, but I'll be working on it!**

**ALSO, to clear something up: This is NOT a continuous story. It is a series of ONE-SHOTS based on snippets Cassandra Clare has released. :)**

**I almost cried writing this, by the way.**

**Disclaimer: Cassandra Clare's, not mine!**

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_****__SPOILERS in this_** chapter****_ for _****_Clockwork Princess_****.**

_-"Where's Brother Zachariah?"_

_-"I'm right here...Jace Herondale. And once more a Herondale is the object of my deliverance. I should have anticipated."_

~From the visual snippet

* * *

Clary ran her fingers through Jace's hair, watching him stare blankly at the ceiling. She was propped up on her elbow, looking down at him. His eyes held no emotion, but she knew better. She just didn't know anything she could say to make him feel better. She didn't know if there _was_ anything to say. So Clary had simply stayed with him these past thirty-six hours; she had a feeling they'd been the hardest of his life. She'd asked him if he wanted to be alone, but he had refused. So she'd stayed with him, sometimes talking to him and sometimes just laying in silence, because that was all she _could_ do.

"Jace. Come down to the kitchen with me."

"I'm not hungry."

Clary sighed. "Jace, I know this isn't what you want to hear, but you're going to have to get out of bed sometime. I know you're hurting, but he wouldn't want this."

Jace closed his eyes. "Maybe in a little while." Clary nodded, kissed Jace's forehead, and stood. She stretched and exited the room in search of snacks.

All she could think about was how what had happened to Jace wasn't fair.

* * *

_"Jace! Jace, I can't keep up with you!" Clary cried, on the verge of tears. Her boots were sticking in the mud, and she could hardly move. The rain kept getting in her eyes, making it nearly impossible to see. The only help she got was from the lightning, but then the thunder was so loud she thought it might deafen her. _

_Jace was stumbling ahead of her on the muddy path towards Alicante. Clary had never seen him panicking this much. Further more, he hadn't even told her what was going on._

_"Jace!" Clary cried again. She was scared – she'd never seen Jace this upset before. _

_"We have to go," Jace gasped. "We have to get back now."_

_"Jace, we can barely walk. We have to stop somewhere!"_

_But Jace only stumbled ahead blindly. Clary let out a cry of frustration and ran with everything in her to catch Jace. _

_She was only a step behind him when he fell to his knees. _

_"Jace!" Clary screamed, falling to her knees beside him. "Jace, what's wrong?"_

_He was doubled over, crying out. His hands clutched at his chest, and Clary saw _blood_. She snatched his hands away in confusion. The front of his gear was stained red, but it was turning dark mixed with the rain and mud. _

_Between gasps of air Jace looked up, tears mixing with the rain. "Alec," he whispered. _

_And suddenly, Clary understood. _

* * *

Clary made her way to the kitchen. The only sound was that of the wind outside howling through the cracks of the old church. It seemed impossible that the Institute was the fullest it had been in years, when the only signs of any humans were the dusty footprints scattered throughout the halls.

The battle was over, and they had won. Not without their share of loss, though. She blocked their faces out of her mind. She would grieve at the funerals, but she could not break down now. She had to focus on the fact that her brother would never hurt anyone again.

She entered the kitchen. Unsurprisingly, it was empty, unless you counted the day-old coffee cups sitting on the counter. She walked over to the pantry, rummaging around for something that wasn't a week old or Isabelle's leftovers. She felt a brief wave of success as she found a box of energy bars.

"Perfect."

She began to turn, and yelped as she almost ran into her mother.

"_Mom_. You scared me."

"Sorry, darling," Jocelyn said with a soft smile. "How's Jace?"

Clary sighed. "Not good. He's barely eaten since we got back, and he won't get out of bed."

Jocelyn nodded sadly. "To loose a _parabatai_… I can't even imagine."

"I should probably get back. He doesn't want to be alone," Clary explained.

Jocelyn nodded. "Actually, I need you to tell him something."

"Okay," Clary said slowly.

Jocelyn handed Clary a piece of paper in her hand that wasn't already gripping the energy bars. "It's from Brother Zachariah. I found it outside the door. Anyway, he wants to talk to Jace, and he said if Jace would come he'd meet him tomorrow at that address."

"I don't think Jace will go, but I'll tell him."

"Okay. I'll be down here for a while."

Clary nodded and made her way back upstairs. Soon enough she found herself shouldering open Jace's door, only to find him in the same position she'd left him in.

"I brought snacks."

"Great."

"And something else. For you."

This got Jace's attention. He turned to look at her, frowning slightly as she sat on the edge of the bed and threw the energy bars between them.

"What do you mean?"

Clary held out the piece of paper. "It's from Brother Zachariah. He said he wants to talk to you."

Jace opened the paper, read it, and then let it drop to his side. "It's just a stupid address."

"He wants to meet you there tomorrow morning."

"I don't feel like it."

"Okay," said Clary. "But I really think you should go."

* * *

Jace woke the next morning to sunshine. It made him furious, really. How dare it be sunny when he felt like this? Clary lay beside him, curled up and asleep. He shuddered at the thought of how close he'd come to losing her, too. She shifted and murmured something in her sleep.

Jace's eyes fell to the slip of paper lying between them on the bed. He still didn't want to leave this room, but he had to admit he was a bit curious. And Clary thought he should go.

Jace made his decision.

Carefully, not wanting to wake Clary, Jace climbed out from under the covers and headed to wash up.

A little while later, he quietly emerged from the bathroom. He had to admit, he felt a bit better. Washing up had woken him up, though he still grimaced at the half-stinging, half-numb feeling of his _parabatai_ rune.

He was slipping his shoes on when he heard Clary's soft voice from the bed.

"Jace? Is everything okay?"

"I'm going to see Brother Zachariah after all," said Jace. "It's okay, go back to sleep."

Clary smiled and rolled over.

* * *

Jace approached the address written on the paper. It was an old townhouse in a prettier part of the city. Jace found the door partly open. He knocked, but there was no answer. Shrugging, he walked in, shutting the door behind him.

"Brother Zachariah?" he called.

"In here," a voice answered, though it didn't sound exactly like Brother Zachariah. Jace knocked on the door to the room he thought he'd heard the response from.

"Come in."

Jace entered to find not Brother Zachariah, but another man – not a Silent Brother - standing out the window and facing away from him. Jace frowned.

"Where's Brother Zachariah?" Jace asked.

"I'm right here," the man answered. And then he turned around.

Jace couldn't help but stare in bewilderment. Because it _was_ Brother Zachariah – except he wasn't a Silent Brother any longer. Jace's eyes were drawn to a faded rune on his neck. The _parabatai_ rune that Jace had noticed last time he'd seen Brother Zachariah.

"Jace Herondale," said Brother Zachariah That Wasn't Brother Zachariah. He smiled to himself as if enjoying a private joke. "And once more a Herondale is the object of my deliverance. I should have anticipated."

"I – I don't understand," said Jace, tearing his eyes away from the _parabatai_ rune.

"You are the reason I am no longer bound to the Brothers. It is a long story, I am afraid, but I was bound to them due to a poison that would not allow me to live otherwise. And the heavenly fire that you gave up? It was used to burn away the last of the poison within me. I am now Jem Carstairs once again."

Jace nodded, speechless.

"Thank you," said Jem. "And I am sorry, so sorry, about the loss of your _parabatai_," said Jem.

"You know what it's like, don't you?" asked Jace quietly.

"Yes," said Jem simply, sadly, then hesitated. "I suppose part of the reason I choose not to just die of the poison was because of him - so I could make sure he was alright."

"I should have been there," Jace whispered, "for Alec. To watch his back like a _parabatai_ should."

Brother Zachariah - Jem - shook his head. "It is not your fault."

Jace nodded slowly, though uncertainly. "Who was he? Your _parabatai_?"

Jem smiled slightly. "Will Herondale."

And suddenly, it all made sense to Jace. Why Brother Zachariah had taken a special interest in trying to cure Jace. Why he had seemed to care about Jace so much more than a Silent Brother should have been able to. Why he had saved Jace's life.

It was because Jace was the last of his _parabatai_'s family.

And Jace felt a connection to Brother Zachariah/Jem. For they were alike in more ways than one. Maybe Jem could help him through the loss of Alec, Jace realized. And for the first time in the past couple of days, Jace began to hope again.


	4. The Color Is

**A/N: I've been super stressed with school, and I'm so sorry for the lack of updates. Here's a short little chapter to fill the wait between the bigger ones. Thank you for all of the lovely reviews, follows, and favorites!**

* * *

"This was mine when I was a child. My mother gave it to me, and I don't know how many generations before that it has been passed down."

Clary's eyes flickered over the old, battered book her mother handed her. It was thin and worn, but Clary liked the vintage look. _Besides_, she thought as she flipped open the cover, _the art is truly something beautiful_.

"Thanks, mom," Clary said, genuinely touched. She hadn't expected her mother to keep anything from her Shadowhunter days, much less pass them down to Clary.

"You're so welcome, darling," said Jocelyn. "It's silly, really. Just a bunch of rhymes and stories. I just figured since you'd never read them when you were little that you might want to look at them now."

Clary smiled, thanked her mom again, and headed upstairs. Curling up amid her blankets, she cracked open the spine of the weathered book. _Essential Children's Rhymes and Stories_, it was called.

Mostly, Clary looked at the pictures of the happy Shadowhunter children and the mystical angels. A particularly short rhyme caught her eye, however.

_Black for hunting through the night_

_For death and mourning the color's white_

_Gold for a bride in her wedding gown_

_And red to call enchantment down._

_White silk when our bodies burn,_

_Blue banners when the lost return._

_Flame for the birth of a Nephilim,_

_And to wash away our sins._

_Gray for knowledge best untold,_

_Bone for those who don't grow old._

_Saffron lights the victory march,_

_Green will mend our broken hearts._

_Silver for the demon towers,_

_And bronze to summon wicked powers._

This must have been the rhyme she'd heard Alec or Jace or someone refer to. She reread it again, carefully this time. It made sense. Black for hunting. White for mourning. They'd worn red at the Seventh Sacred Site. Flame was used in a newborn's ceremony. Silver demon towers. Clary had yet to experience the rest of the colors, however.

Suddenly, something caught her attention on the adjacent page. It was an illustration that went with the poem. Clary picked up her phone, already dialing the Institute, her fingers suddenly shaking. This could be the answer to the heavenly fire problem. It was unbelievable. The answer been hidden in a silly illustration to a children's rhyme the entire time.


	5. Family

**First of all, thank you to each and every reviewer. All of these kind words make my day! School has been a bit less busy this week, so I had time to write this! I didn't realize how depressing most of these snippets were until I was looking to see how many happy/funny ones there were (hint: not many). Anyway, enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Cassandra Clare's, not mine!**

* * *

_Based off of the spoilery art of Clary and Emma that Cassandra Clare released._

* * *

Clary watched her feet slap against the floor as she exited the temporary infirmary. Red sneakers on white tile. She didn't look up - not once. Not at the people staring, wondering how this tiny sixteen-year-old girl could have saved the world. Not at the people who were too distracted to notice her at all.

She found herself outside and took off running, not really sure of her destination. It was merely the feeling of being free, of being able to breathe again, that she needed. The wind in her hair, the breeze whistling through her thin jacket.

She finally stopped, gasping for breath, at the top of a hill. She collapsed and leaned back on her hands. She watched the lights twinkle in Alicante as night fell. It was beautiful, really. The Accords Hall especially, with the crowd of people dispersing out of it and the torches she could see through the windows.

If she was completely honest with herself, she'd never considered Team Good winning could be a possible solution to her crazy mess. Best case scenario? Sure. Probable? Not so much.

Slowly she stood, stretching. Maybe her mother was down in the Accords Hall. Even if not, she might as well head down there anyway and see if anyone needed help cleaning the mess of a city that was Alicante.

It wasn't a long walk, only about five minutes, until Clary found herself standing at the magnificent doors. She shrugged and entered, the doors shutting with a bang that resonated through the quiet that the Hall had become. Pretty much everyone had cleared out, with the exceptions mostly being Council Members and other leaders of the Shadowhunter world.

A familiar face down the hallway to the right caught Clary's eye.

"Emma?" Clary exclaimed, surprised. Why would Emma be here? Clary hurried down the hall towards the girl.

Emma looked miserable. She was seated in a straight-backed wooden chair against the wall, as if she were waiting outside in the hallway of the principal's office. Her hair was messily braided behind her head, as if she had done it herself for the first time. Her hands rested in her lap, and she didn't look up until Clary crouched in front of her, casting off her jacket on the way – it was as warm in there as it was cold outside.

"Is everything okay, Emma?" Clary asked softly.

Emma shook her head, blinking furiously and looking away from Clary. This was a completely different Emma than the one Clary had met just a few days earlier.

"Everything is completely _not_ okay!" cried Emma, biting her lip and looking down again.

Clary sat down in front of Emma. "What's wrong?"

"My parents are dead! They promised they'd come back and they lied and now I'm some _stupid_ orphan!"

"Oh, Emma," Clary whispered, pulling the younger girl in for a tight hug. She felt Emma shaking, and pulled back, rocking onto her heels.

"I'm so sorry," Clary said.

Emma shook her head. "I hate when people say that. It's not –"

"My fault, I know," Clary smiled. "Maybe it'll cheer you up to know that you sound exactly like Jace, Emma Carstairs. You say you want to be as good of a Shadowhunter as him one day, and looking at you right now, so strong and brave after such a horrible loss – well, I envy your strength."

"But I'm not brave. I'm so lost without my family."

"That's where you're wrong, Emma. After all, as the saying goes, being fearless isn't being unafraid – it's facing your fears. And I'd imagine you've pretty much faced hell with worry and grief these past couple of days, haven't you Emma? And yet, you're still here. We both are. So maybe we're both a little stronger than we think, yeah?"

Emma looked out the window opposite her, smiling bitterly.

"Do you need anywhere to go Emma? You know my door is always open."

"No. Mrs. Blackthorn has arranged to adopt me," Emma said bitterly.

"Julian's mother?"

"Yes."

"Well," said Clary, "That's a silver lining, at least."

Suddenly, down the hallway, the door of the Accords Hall banged open again. Tessa Gray entered, her cheeks tinged pink with cold. She spotted Clary and Emma down the hallway, and began to make her way towards them.

"Clary? Who's this?" Tessa asked.

Clary smiled at Emma, standing and pulling Emma to her feet as well.

"Tessa, this is my friend. Emma Carstairs."

A peculiar expression passed over Tessa's face. "Emma…Carstairs?"

Emma nodded wordlessly.

"Emma," said Clary, "This is a family friend. Tessa Gray."

Tessa stuck out her hand, and Emma hesitantly took it, smiling slightly back at Tessa's beam.

"Emma," said Tessa. "This may be a slightly odd question, but would you mind if I introduced you to someone? There's a friend of mine, and I think that he'd be very pleased to meet you."

Emma glanced at Clary, almost as if asking for permission. Clary nodded, reassuring Emma of Tessa's friendliness.

"You can find me when you're done, okay?"

"'Kay, Clary."

"Come on," Tessa laughed. "It won't take long. And I'm more friendly than I look, I promise."

As Emma walked away with Tessa, she glanced back over her shoulder at Clary. Clary wasn't sure exactly what the look was, but it warmed her heart. She'd only know Emma Carstairs for a few days, and yet the girl already felt like a sister to her. More proof that blood didn't always equal family, she supposed, as she watched the blonde girl disappear out of the door.


	6. Protected You

**Here's a short chapter for today! Thanks for all the reviews everyone.**

**I have a question for you all - ****_What do the think the "emergency" is in the excerpt of Simon and Clary where she gets the text from Jocelyn?_**** I can't come up with anything! If I did end up using your idea, I'd for sure give you credit. Thanks!**

**Disclaimer: Cassandra Clare's, not mine.**

* * *

_His eyes shone when he looked at her, green as spring grass._

_He has always had green eyes, said the voice in her head. People often marvel at how much alike you are, he and your mother and yourself. His name is Jonathan and he is your brother; he has always protected you._

_Somewhere in the back of Clary's mind she saw black eyes and whip marks, but she didn't know why. He's your brother. He's your brother, and he's always taken care of you._

* * *

His eyes shone when he looked at her, green as spring grass.

_He has always had green eyes, _said the voice in her head. _People often marvel at how much alike you are, he and your mother and yourself. His name is Jonathan and he is your brother; he has always protected you._

Somewhere in the back of Clary's mind she saw black eyes and whip marks, but she didn't know why. _He's your brother. He's your brother, and he's always taken care of you._

"Clary?"

"Oh – what, Jonathan?"

"Are you alright? You don't look so well."

"I'm fine. Just feel a bit disoriented…" Clary said, grabbing the box of cereal from the pantry. She nearly dropped it as a sudden spell of dizziness overcame her.

"Anything else?"

"No," she lied. "Why, Jonathan? You say it like you're scared."

"I'm just concerned, Clary. Is that so wrong, to be concerned for my baby sister?"

Clary sat down at the table across from her brother, kicking her feet up and pouring milk into her cereal. She crinkled her nose at her brother's comment.

"I am not a _baby_."

"Whatever," Jonathan replied, standing. "I'm heading out. I'll be back tonight."

Clary rolled her eyes. "You know I'll be here. It's not like I actually have any friends anyway."

Sebastian grinned and headed for the door. "What are siblings for, eh?"

* * *

Clary let her unruly hair out of a pony tail. A headache was coming on, and a tight knot on the top of her head didn't help. She looked at her reflection in the mirror. Bright red curls, green eyes, short. Everything about herself was familiar.

Except something wasn't.

Clary couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. The odds were that it was just because she was getting sick or something, but still.

She squinted into the mirror, seeing something around her neck. It was a chain, but without a charm to hang on it.

Weird – she didn't remember putting that on.

She fingered the chain, and suddenly a mop of blond hair and a crooked grin flashed across her eyes.

_That's it,_ she thought. _I'm going insane._

She spun and hurried out of the bathroom, rattled. She wandered through the house, not quite sure where she was going. The place was familiar enough to her. She'd lived there with her brother ever since her parents were killed by rouge vampires a few years back.

She found herself stumbling through the door to Jonathan's room – maybe he had some advil or _something_. Her head was killing her.

She pulled open his bathroom medicine cabinet, her hand coming into contact with a piece of paper. Curious, she pulled it out.

_Has Clary had any memories return? You know the mixture can sometimes be unreliable._

_-X_

Clary dropped the paper, her heart beating loudly in her chest. What was this supposed to mean? Suddenly, she found herself back in Jonathan's room, pulling open drawers and searching bookcases for she didn't know what.

She found it without knowing she had. It was a dark ring, with a design of stars. The cold metal caused a tingling in her fingers, and suddenly images came flooding back to her.

Her mother, laughing with a man she knew was Luke. A boy who must be Simon frowning and snatching a comic away from her. Two dark haired siblings, Alec and Isabelle. _Jace_.

Clary's eyes flew open, tears threatening to spill as she realized what had happened. She'd let Jonathan – Sebastian – capture her.

She had to get out. She had to get back. She had time, and she'd make it work.


	7. Because He Loves You

**Hi everyone! I'm working on a longer chapter, but here's a drabble for today. Reviews are lovely!**

* * *

_"__Why did he kiss you?" she asked._

* * *

Clary sat on the bed in Izzy's room, watching the other girl pace and mumble to herself, picking something up every once in a while only to set it back down. Her black hair was messily thrown into a ponytail, and her black camisole was wrinkled like it'd been in the bottom of her closet for three weeks.

"Izzy, please, stop pacing," Clary moaned. "You're giving me a headache!"

"I'm sorry!" snapped Izzy, flopping back onto her bed and causing Clary to bounce into the air a bit. Isabelle continued to scowl, and Clary rolled her eyes.

"You're going to give yourself frown lines," Clary said. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's _wrong_," said Isabelle.

"Oh," said Clary. "_Clearly_."

Isabelle sat up. "I'm sorry, Miss Perfect. Did I offend you or something?"

Clary sighed. "Seriously, Iz. What's wrong?"

Isabelle eyed Clary, as if she were a stain on the bed. Clary knew what the look really was though: distrust. Finally Isabelle sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Simon."

"What?" asked Clary. That was the last thing she had expected Izzy to say. "What's wrong? Are you guys in a fight? Are –"

"Shut up, Clary. And no, we're not fighting. Actually, everything is perfect. And that is exactly the problem."

"I'm afraid I don't follow your logic," Clary said slowly.

Isabelle took a deep breath and looked away. "I love him."

Clary laughed shortly. "I know."

"What if he doesn't really love me?" Isabelle whispered. Clary hesitated. She'd caught Izzy in a rare moment of vulnerability and knew she'd have to tread carefully.

"Why did he kiss you?" Clary asked.

"Excuse me?"

"This morning, last night, last week. Why did he kiss you? Why does he always think about you? Why are you the single most important person in his life?"

Isabelle stared at the floor.

"Because he loves you. He'd sacrifice anything for you. I don't know why you doubt this so much, and I'm not going to ask, but believe me. He loves you."


	8. An Emergency

**Here's a bit of a longer chapter for today! The text in italics is all from the snippet. Thanks to a guest reviewer for helping my thought process along with this snippet. Reviews are lovely!**

**Disclaimer: Cassandra Clare's not mine!**

* * *

_The Frays had never been a religiously observant family, but Clary loved Fifth Avenue at Christmas time. The air smelled like sweet roasted chestnuts, and the window displays sparkled with silver and blue, green and red. This year there were fat round crystal snowflakes attached to each lamppost, sending back the winter sunlight in shafts of gold . Not to mention the huge tree at Rockefeller Center. It threw its shadow across them as she and Simon draped themselves over the gate at the side of the skating rink, watching tourists fall down as they tried to navigate the ice._

_Clary had a hot chocolate wrapped in her hands, the warmth spreading through her body. She felt almost normal—this, coming to Fifth to see the window displays and the tree, had been a winter tradition for her and Simon for as long as she could remember._

_"Feels like old times, doesn't it?" he said, echoing her thoughts as he propped his chin on his folded arms._

_She chanced a sideways look at him. He was wearing a black topcoat and scarf that emphasized the winter pallor of his skin. His eyes were shadowed, indicating that he hadn't fed on blood recently. He looked like what he was—a hungry, tired vampire._

_Well, she thought. Almost like old times. "More people to buy presents for," she said. "Plus, the always traumatic what-to-buy-someone-for-the-first-Christmas-after-you've-started-dating question."_

_"What to get the Shadowhunter who has everything," Simon said with a grin._

_"Jace mostly likes weapons," Clary sighed. "He likes books, but they have a huge library at the Institute. He likes classical music …" She brightened. Simon was a musician; even though his band was terrible, and was always changing their name—currently they were Lethal Soufflé—he did have training. "What would you give someone who likes to play the piano?"_

_"A piano."_

_"Simon."_

_"A really huge metronome that could also double as a weapon?"_

_Clary sighed, exasperated._

_"Sheet music. Rachmaninoff is tough stuff, but he likes a challenge."_

_"Now you're talking. I'm going to see if there's a music store around here." Clary, done with her hot chocolate, tossed the cup into a nearby trash can and pulled her phone out. "What about you? What are you giving Isabelle?"_

_"I have absolutely no idea," Simon said. They had started heading toward the avenue, where a steady stream of pedestrians gawking at the windows clogged the streets._

_"Oh, come on. Isabelle's easy."_

_"That's my girlfriend you're talking about." Simon's brows drew together. "I think. I'm not sure. We haven't discussed it. The relationship, I mean."_

_"You really have to DTR, Simon."_

_"What?"_

_"Define the relationship. What it is, where it's going. Are you boyfriend and girlfriend, just having fun, 'it's complicated,' or what? When's she going to tell her parents? Are you allowed to see other people?"_

_Simon blanched. "What? Seriously?"_

_"Seriously. In the meantime—perfume!" Clary grabbed Simon by the back of his coat and hauled him into a cosmetics store that had once been a bank. It was massive on the inside, with rows of gleaming bottles everywhere. "And something unusual," she said, heading for the fragrance area. "Isabelle isn't going to want to smell like everyone else. She's going to want to smell like figs, or vetiver, or—"_

_"Figs? Figs have a smell?" Simon looked horrified; Clary was about to laugh at him when her phone buzzed. It was her mother._

_Where are you? It's an emergency._

Clary stopped in her tracks. Her eyebrows pulled together as she stared at her phone and waved to Simon. "Simon, wait. Come here."

"What is it _now_?" Simon joked. "Another –"

"This is serious," snapped Clary, holding out her phone. "We have to go."

Simon's expression fell as he read the message, and the pair hurried out of the store.

"You catch a cab," said Clary. "I have to call my mother."

Clary's heart beat loudly in her chest as the phone rang once, twice, three times. Finally, on the fourth ring, Jocelyn picked up.

"Clary?" She sounded frantic.

"Mom, it's me. What's going on?"

"Meet at the Institute as soon as you can. Don't stop for anyone, don't talk to anyone, just hurry. Are you alone?"

"No," said Clary. "I'm with Simon."

"I'll explain everything. Just _hurry_."

Jocelyn hung up with a click.

By this time Simon had already caught a cab. He was waving to Clary from the curb, but Clary couldn't move. Fear gripped her. Was someone hurt? Was her mother okay? What about Luke? Jace?

"Clary!" Simon called, snapping her out of her trance. She hurried over to the curb and slipped in the cab ahead of Simon. She sat straight, her eyes staring ahead the whole ride. Simon covered her hand with his own.

"Clary, I'm sure whatever it is, it can't be that bad if your mom was able to talk on the phone. Just calm down."

"You didn't hear my mom," Clary mumbled. Just a few more minutes.

Simon shook his head but kept quiet.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the taxi pulled up to the Institute.

"You sure this is your stop?" asked the driver gruffly, only seeing a dilapidated old church.

"Yes, thanks," said Clary breathlessly, already halfway out of the car as Simon paid. She paused, looking back for Simon, but he shook his head.

"I can't go into the Institute anyway," he pointed out. "I'll just head back to the apartment. Call if you need me, okay? In fact, call no matter what. I want to know what's going on."

Clary nodded and spun on her heels, nearly running to the Institute steps. She pushed open the heavy doors with a resounding clang, and was met in the foyer with silence.

Before she could call for anyone, Jace rounded the corner. He hurried towards her and pulled her into his arms. She rested her head on his chest, grateful that at least he was okay.

"Thank the angel you're here," he murmured into her hair.

She pulled back, looking into his face. "What's going on? Is anyone hurt? Was there -"

Jace shook his head. "No one is hurt. But you'd better see something," he said, taking her hand and leading her towards the library. He opened the doors and she followed him through.

A large crowd was gathered, including her mother, Luke, Isabelle, Alec, and Maryse. Jocelyn turned when she heard Clary and Jace enter.

"Oh, thank goodness," she said, hurrying over to Clary.

"Mom, what's going on?" asked Clary, pulling out of her mother's embrace. She was trying to stay calm.

Jocelyn sighed. "Someone left a little…gift in here," she said, gesturing over her shoulder to the group gathered around something.

Slowly, Clary made her way towards the group. She felt Jace following behind her, and was reassured somewhat. Luke moved aside so Clary could see, and in the next few moments she almost wished that he hadn't.

A pair of mangled _somethings_ lay on the ground, and it took a second for Clary to realize that they were wings. Angel wings, cut straight off of an angel. Horror struck a chord in Clary, and suddenly she felt the need to vomit. And that was before she saw the note: _Erchomai. I am coming._

She felt her knees give out, and the floor rushed up to meet her. Just before she hit, a hand grabbed her arm and a shock went through her.

Her eyes fluttered open to see Jace was the one who had caught her – unsurprisingly, considering the rapidly reddening burn on her arm. An odd expression was on his face as he mumbled an apology, and then Luke was the one steadying her.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine," Clary murmured, pulling away to stand on her own.

Maryse spoke first, addressing the whole room. She said something about how no one was to leave the institute without at least one companion, and suggested other ways to be extra cautious. But between Clary's embarrassment about almost fainting and her fear of her brother, she couldn't focus. She had a feeling that this year wouldn't exactly have a merry Christmas.


	9. The Cat's Not Dead

**Hi everyone! Sorry that it's been a while since the last update - life has been hectic! **

**Also, I got a review requesting a certain chapter - does anyone have any ideas to who the snippet talking about Sebastian lying shirtless on the bed is referring to? The narrator also mentions that they were fascinated with Shadowhunters but never thought they'd find one they could stand. So, it can't be a Shadowhunter's point of view. If anyone has any ideas for who that chapter should be about, let me know - I'll give anyone credit whose idea I use!**

**Enjoy! Reviews are lovely!**

* * *

_Magnus rolled onto his back and put his feet up on the arm of the sofa. "What do you care if Alec's miserable?"_

_"What do I care?" Jace said, so loudly that Chairman Meow rolled off the couch and landed on the floor. "Of course I care about Alec; he's my best friend, my parabatai. And he's unhappy. And so are you, by the look of things. Takeout containers everywhere, you haven't done anything to fix up the place, your cat looks dead —"_

_"He's not dead."_

_"I think," Jace said, "that you don't want to tell your secrets, so you decided to break up with Alec because.."_

* * *

Jace's feet pounded across the pavement. He was walking, but not slowly. Buildings passed by in a red haze. Jace was… furious. At Alec, for only now admitting to Jace why he was so miserable.

And at Magnus, who had made Alec so miserable. Magnus who, in fact, Jace was on his way to see right now.

The past week had proved Alec moody, miserable, and downright mean. Jace had just assumed at first that it was only another one of Alec's moody, miserable, mean days… until one day had turned into two and then two into a week. Jace had confronted Alec, who at first denied anything was wrong. But finally, under the concerned gaze of his parabatai, Alec had given in and told Jace about the breakup.

Jace had declared he was leaving to force Magnus to see sense, but Alec had tried his best to convince Jace that the breakup was his own fault. Jace, surprised, had waited and then snuck out to confront Magnus.

Which brought him here, the afternoon breeze blowing through his hair as he took the steps two at a time to Magnus' apartment.

Jace pounded on the door.

"Who's it?" grumbled an irritable voice from the other side of the door way. Jace stayed silent, knowing the door would never open if he gave his name.

"I_ said_, who disturbs the High Warlock of Brooklyn?" boomed Magnus, flinging open the door. Jace quickly stepped inside before Magnus had the time to process who exactly it was.

"Actually, that wasn't what you said," Jace remarked, shrugging.

Magnus' eyes narrowed. "Get out," he said.

Jace smirked. "I think I'll stay. It's a lot warmer in here than outside. Can't say it's much cleaner though," Jace said, looking at the disaster that was Magnus' home. Trash littered the floor, furniture was strewn in odd places, and the cat was passed out on the couch.

"I said get out, Nephilim," Magnus said, his voice dangerously low.

"Wow," said Jace. "You can't even remember my name? I didn't know that breaking up with someone caused amnesia."

Magnus slammed the door and strode away from it. He sagged onto the couch, looking up at Jace with narrowed eyes.

"Alec's miserable," Jace said plainly.

Magnus rolled onto his back and put his feet up on the arm of the sofa. "What do you care if Alec's miserable?"

"What do I _care?"_ Jace said, so loudly that Chairman Meow rolled off the couch and landed on the floor. "Of course I care about Alec; he's my best friend, my _parabatai. _And he's unhappy. And so are you, by the look of things. Takeout containers everywhere, you haven't done anything to fix up the place, your cat looks dead —"

"He's not dead."

"You might want to check on that," Jace snapped. "Anyway, do you want to know what I think?"

"No."

"I think," Jace said, "that you don't want to tell your secrets, so you decided to break up with Alec because he was getting to nosy for your taste. Or maybe just too intelligent? I'm guessing he wanted to know who your father was?"

"He tried to _shorten my life_!" Magnus screamed, bolting to his feet.

"You know as well as I do he never would have or could have actually done it!" Jace yelled back.

"Well," Magnus said, and for a moment Jace thought he saw a flicker or sorrow in the warlock's eyes. "You know what they say – it's the thought that counts."

And suddenly some invisible force was catapulting Jace across the room and out of the door that opened for him. He was roughly dropped on the glittering doormat.

"And don't come again."


	10. Herondale Manor

**Hey everyone! It's spring break here, so I finally had time to update! Everything in italics is from the snippet. Reviews make my day! (And motivate me to update faster…**** ) Also, props to you if you can guess the mysterious visitor I had in mind while writing this chapter (just read it – it'll make sense).**

**Disclaimer: Cassandra Clare's, not mine.**

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_Idris had been green and gold and russet in the autumn, when Clary had first been there. It had a stark grandeur in the winter: the mountains rose in the distance, capped white with snow, and the trees along the side of the road that led back to Alicante from the lake were stripped bare, their leafless branches making lace-like patterns against the bright sky._

_Sometimes Jace would slow the horse to point out the manor houses of the richer Shadowhunter families, hidden from the road when the trees were full but revealed now. She felt his shoulders tense as they passed one that nearly melded with the forest around it: it had clearly been burned and rebuilt. Some of the stones still bore the black marks of smoke and fire. "The Blackthorn manor," he said. "Which means that around this bend in the road is …" He paused as Wayfarer summited a small hill, and reined him in so they could look down to where the road split in two. One direction led back toward Alicante — Clary could see the demon towers in the distance — while the other curled down toward a large building of mellow golden stone, surrounded by a low wall. " … the Herondale manor," Jace finished._

_The wind picked up; icy, it ruffled Jace's hair. Clary had her hood up, but he was bare-headed and bare-handed, having said he hated wearing gloves when horseback riding. He liked to feel the reins in his hands. "Did you want to go and look at it?" she asked._

_His breath came out in a white cloud. "I'm not sure."_

Clary stretched her arms forward and placed her hands on top of Jace's on the reins. They were freezing, but she didn't pull away. She felt him tense, and pulled back a little.

"We don't have to, Jace."

Jace hesitated, and then answered, "I want to. I do."

"Okay," said Clary softly. "If you're sure."

Jace urged Wayfarer down the hill slowly, Clary holding onto him tightly to avoid falling off. The hill was rocky and bumpy and made Clary very nervous. They arrived at the gate and Jace dismounted, holding out a hand to help Clary off Wayfarer after him. Clary shivered as another gust of wind hit her, seeming to blow straight through her cloak and clothes.

"Are you cold?" Jace asked, concerned. Clary shook her head.

"I'll be fine," she promised. "We'll be inside soon anyway."

Jace nodded slowly, but wrapped his arm around her anyway, pulling her close.

"Stay, Wayfarer," he commanded the horse. Wayfarer stared back at Jace, who rolled his eyes. "C'mon," he murmured to Clary, pulling her towards the entrance.

The gate was locked, but Jace kicked it and sent the rusty old thing creaking inwards. The walk to the doors of the golden building was short, and the pair soon found themselves at the threshold.

The manor was clearly abandoned. Glass was shot out of some of the windows, and wooden planks boarded up others. Moss grew up the walls, and a musty smell covered even the outside. Clary wrinkled her nose. However, despite the neglect, the manor was undeniably beautiful.

Jace hesitated as he reached to push open the door, but then shook his head and muttered something to himself. He swung it open, and stepped through, Clary still tucked protectively under his arm.

She wiggled out as the door clanged shut behind them, plunging them into near darkness. The only light came from the skylights on the ceiling. Late afternoon sunlight filtered through them onto the floor of the foyer.

Jace frowned. "Someone's been here," he said.

"How do you know?" Clary whispered. They were the only ones within miles of the place, and yet it felt like a library or a doctor's office: No talking unless you had to, and if you did have to, whisper.

Jace pointed to the floor, where footprints were visible in the dust. Clary looked to Jace, unsure of what he wanted to do.

"I guess we follow the footprints and then go from there," Jace muttered, starting forward. Clary grabbed his hand, wanting more than anything else just to reassure him that she knew how difficult this must be for him. His real – well, biological, anyway –parents had lived here. This had been their home. It could have been his.

They tracked the footprints through a dark, damp hallway into an even larger room. The library. And someone had definitely been there.

Books lay scattered everywhere, dust floated in the air. But whoever had been there was gone now, as the set of footprints led back to the hallway and out the door in which they had come.

Jace pulled away from Clary, moving forward as something caught his eye. Clary followed him to a desk, on which rested a set of dusty photographs. Their frames were fancy, but the photos weren't anything but candid shots of two people. Clary could only guess who they were.

Celine and Stephen Herondale.

Jace picked up one of the photographs and observed it for a moment before slamming it down onto the table again. His hands glowed and he gripped the edge of the desk tightly and breathed heavily, facing away from Clary. Clary recognized it as Jace trying to follow Brother Zachariah's instructions on calming himself – and the heavenly fire – down.

Clary knew Jace didn't want pity, so she stood behind him silently, pursing her lips and waiting for him to speak first. She watched the muscles in his arms as he breathed. They were shaking.

"Clary, I'm sor –"

"Stop that. Don't be." Jace turned around curiously at Clary's words. "It's okay to feel something, Jace," Clary continued softly.

Suddenly Jace let out something that sounded very much like a sob. He brought his fist to his mouth and pressed it hard against his lips, squeezing his eyes shut. Clary couldn't take it anymore. She moved towards him and wrapped her arms around him.

His shoulders shook under her hands. He wrapped his arms around her in return, his glowing hands slightly warm, and buried his face in the crook of her neck. Clary felt his tears stain the collar of her cloak.

_The boy never cried again._

Clary felt tears prick in her own eyes, but pushed them back. She rubbed Jace's back and whispered meaningless, soothing words into his ear.

"I could've lived here," Jace choked out finally. "They could've been my family. My _parents._ I would've grown up here and had a childhood here."

"I know," whispered Clary, unsure what exactly to say. Jace's breathing slowed and hands cooled until they were just two people holding onto each other for support. Jace pulled away first.

"I'm sorry," he said awkwardly, staring at the dusty rug beneath his feet. "I don't know what came over me."

Clary smiled softly. "It's _okay_, Jace," she said. "It's okay to cry for what could've been. As long as we realize that it's not what _can_ be."

Jace nodded, a smile briefly gracing his lips. "You know the one thing I have now I would've never had then?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"What?"

"You."

Clary smiled and briefly brought her lips up to Jace's, tasting winter air and peppermint. She pulled back.

"You want to look around the rest of the place?" Clary asked.

"Real quick," Jace replied. "I don't want to be out too long after dark."

And so over the course of the next few minutes the two peeked in luxurious rooms, giggling at the peculiarity of it all. A more sober mood was reached once again when they came upon a half-finished nursery on the second floor. Jace didn't really explore that room.

But Clary saw the stork on the wall and the herons hanging from the baby mobile and smiled softly. She could never imagine a baby Jace here.

* * *

"It's getting late," Jace said, his fingers gracing over the dreadfully out of tune piano in the music room. The only light came from the nearly full moon shining through the window. "I don't want to worry your mom."

"She'll be fine," Clary said, dismissing it with a wave of her hand. "I think. But we probably should get going."

And so they found themselves ten minutes later, mounted on Wayfarer as if no time had passed at all – though the sun had long since set. They paused at the top of the hill, looking back at the moonlit manor.

Jace spurred Wayfarer, and they were gone as if they'd never been there at all.


	11. P-A-R-A-B-A-T-A-I

**Two updates in two days! Oh how I love spring break. Welp, I'm already in love with the ship that is Jemma, so here ya go! Reviews would be amazing!**

**Disclaimer: Cassandra Clare's, not mine.**

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_Julian's skin was cold, as if he'd been leaning out the window into the night air. She turned his hand and drew with her finger on his bare forearm. It was something they'd done since they were small children and didn't want to get caught talking during lessons. Over the years they'd gotten so good at it that they could map out detailed messages on each other's hands, arms, even their shoulders through their T-shirts._

_D-I-D Y-O-U E-A-T? she spelled out._

_Julian shook his head, still staring at Livvy and Ty. His curls were sticking up in tufts as if he'd been raking his hands through his hair. She felt his fingers, light on her upper arm. N-O-T H-U-N-G-R-Y. _

Emma glared at him. He shrugged. Suddenly, a loud cry startled them from their conversation. They both turned from the third story window to see an extremely unhappy Octavian, tears streaming down his baby cheeks. All of the other children bolted upright in surprise – except Ty, who could sleep through anything.

Julian hurried over to Octavian, scooping up the baby.

"Shhhh," he whispered. "You have to be quiet. We're hiding." He gently rocked baby Tavvy, and after what seemed like forever he was quiet.

Emma, still frozen at her spot by the window, let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. She personally was not okay with being shoved in a deserted room– she wanted to fight, she always would – but she and Julian were responsible for all of the little ones. One mistake and Sebastian and his minions would find them. And then they'd be in real trouble.

"Go back to sleep," Julian commanded quietly to everyone in the room. He returned to his place next to Emma. They both stared out the window. The city was dark and quiet – for now, at least. Nearly everyone in the city was preparing for the battle which could begin at any moment. The Blackthorn children and Emma had been hidden away and left alone hours ago.

Worry gnawed at Emma. Her parents were out there fighting, and she couldn't do anything but stand here and stay quiet.

H-E-Y . C-A-N I A-S-K Y-O-U S-O-M-E-T-H-I-N-G? spelled Julian from Emma's shoulder down to her wrist.

D-U-H.

W-O-U-L-D Y-O-U L-I-K-E T-O B-E P-A-R-A-B-A-T-A-I?

Emma's head snapped towards Julian, stunned. They'd only just gotten their fist runes a few months ago! But if she was honest with herself, she knew what she wanted. She turned back towards the window. Was that a flame she saw in the distance?

Without looking, her fingers flew over Jules' arm.

O-F C-O-U-R-S-E.


	12. A Rune

**Hi everyone! Thank you so much for each and every review, they make my day! Enjoy the update.**

**Disclaimer: Cassandra Clare's, not mine.**

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_A rune, hovering like an angel: a shape like two wings joined by a single bar._

* * *

Clary sat at Jace's desk, letting the quiet hum of his TV filter through her mind. She pressed on her temples and closed her eyes tightly. She had to focus on what she knew.

She could draw new runes.

There was no real pattern as to when they came to her.

She couldn't force them to appear in her mind.

Well, she didn't actually know if the last one was true. In fact, that was what she was working on now. Figuring out the rune they were missing. The rune that could change everything.

Clary had thought locking herself in Jace's quiet, spotless room would help her think – until Jace himself had appeared in it, that is.

("What? I'm not allowed to be in my own room?"

"Fine! But I'm trying to think…")

Time was running out for the Shadowhunters of the New York Institute, and they all knew it. They had less than a day – mere hours – until the time Sebastian had promised to attack. Unless they turned over Jace and Clary, of course.

This plan of action had been quickly vetoed. They were now left with no other option but to prepare. Maryse had sent a distress call to the Clave, requesting backup. The rest of them had all bunkered down inside the Institute - Jocelyn, Luke, Maia, Jordan, and even Simon (who could now, thankfully, enter the Institute) included.

Their numbers weren't very promising against an army.

And so Clary sat, hunched over her paper. She was getting desperate.

"Clary?" It was Jace from his spot where he reclined on the bed. He held the TV remote in his hand, and Clary became aware that he'd – finally – turned down the volume.

"Hmm?" she asked, turning back to her paper.

"Maybe you need to take a break."

"Don't have time," she mumbled. She heard the creak of the bedsprings and soft footsteps as Jace padded over to the desk.

"Not even a minute?" Jace whispered in her ear. His warm breath ticked the side of her face and she turned slowly.

"Maybe a minute," she conceded, turning, his lips already brushing hers. She closed her eyes and reached up to twine her hands in his hair, doing her best to ignore the heavenly fire that even now threatened to burn her. Jace leaned down, placing a hand on her waist. Suddenly, an image flashed through her mind. A rune, hovering like an angel: a shape like two wings joined by a single bar.

Clary jerked back, searching for her pencil.

"What's wrong? Did I hurt you?" asked Jace, panicked.

"No!" snapped Clary, snatching her pencil up from where it had been knocked onto the floor. She hurriedly began to scribble the image before her mind lost it. She could already feel it fading.

"What – by the Angel," muttered Jace, staring down at her finished sketch.

Clary slowly turned in her chair, ignoring the feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach. A reminder of the coming battle.

"Jace…I think this changes everything. I think we might have a chance."


	13. All Dead

**So I had to make this snippet cheery cause if Magnus is actually serious in this snippet, I'm done. Reviews are lovely! (Also I know this is super cheesy oops.)  
**

**Disclaimer: Cassandra Clare's, not mine. **

* * *

_"Oh, God," Magnus said. "They're dead. They're all dead."_

Jace, from his spot on the ground, groaned and opened his eyes. "We're not dead, you idiot," he spat. "It's funny how an explosion can effectively trap you under a giant piece of rock, though."

Magnus raised his eyebrows.

"Well are you going to help us?" Clary cried, tears shining in her eyes from the boulder that rested on her legs. Magnus sighed and waved his hand, signaling the rocks to fly off of everyone: Isabelle, Jordan, Jace, Simon, and Clary.

Jace of course, crawled straight to Clary, wrapping an arm around her and applying an iratze to her first, then himself. Isabelle had merely been snagged on one of the pillars, and freed herself with Magnus' help. Jordan and Simon had been buried from the waist up in a pile of smaller rock, and tumbled to the ground ungracefully.

When Jace's leg had healed enough to stand, he did so. "Where's Alec?" he demanded. Magnus grinned.

"Disposing of the bodies of those demon guards," Magnus said. Jace sighed in relief, and hurried towards the exit – still favoring his right leg - and then back into the room.

Magnus watched the way they all moved. How Jace hurried back to Clary and easily hoisted her into his arms until the iratzes could take full effect on her legs. How Jordan and Simon pulled each other up, and Simon took Isabelle's face in his hands while asking her about any injuries. Magnus knew he was a part of this intricate circle, and he was…glad.

Jordan addressed him. "Is Maia okay?"

Magnus shrugged. "She's with Luke's pack back at home, last I heard. She's fine as far as I know. What happened here?"

It was Simon who answered.

"We'd almost reached the entrance to Sebastian's hideout. He found us, and decided he'd rather blow us – and his whole hideout – up instead of peacefully battling like a normal person."

"Is peaceful battle even a thing?" asked Jace.

Magnus was about to retort that perhaps in a demon realm, yes, it was, when a voice from the doorway stopped him short.

"Oh, thank the Angel everyone's okay."

Alec hurried down the incline to join the group, his fingers brushing Magnus back when he came to stand next to him.

"What happened?" he asked. They group explained again, and Alec raised an eyebrow in concern. "None of you took a boulder to the head?"

Isabelle smiled slightly. "I did, but my head's too hard to take much damage."

Alec sighed. "I meant more like was squished by one, but okay," he said, crossing the room and pulling his sister into a hug. Maybe Magnus was crazy, but it looked like Isabelle was blinking back tears.

Alec pulled away and started toward his parabatai. Clary saw him coming, and pushed on Jace's chest.

"Put me down," she complained.

"Clary – " Jace warned.

"I'll be fine," she said firmly, and squirmed until he relented. She leaned on him, but was able to stand. Magnus allowed himself to wonder at the speed of iratzes – her legs had been crushed only minutes ago, and far worse than Jace's one leg.

Magnus watched as Alec gripped his parabatai in a firm hug, and was surprised at himself. For the first time, he didn't feel any jealousy when he look at the pair together. It was refreshing, really.

Magnus sighed, addressing the six of them. "I hate to break it to you, but we'd better get moving."

And so they did.


End file.
